Ne Me Quitte Pas
by Clara-Lis
Summary: This is a story that explores the love not only between a man and a woman, but the love of a mother, of a father, of a child towards it's parents and many other kinds of love. This is a story of forgiveness and much, much more.
1. Chapter 1

Vesper sat in the middle of her bed, three o´clock in the morning, nursing a bottle of cabernet sauvignon the 2006 season. The year she had died.

In the background, playing in repeat and loud just as not to wake her little son across the hallway, Edith Piaf's very dramatic version of "Ne me quitte pas", her companion to this very date for officially six years. Six bloody, difficult, lonely, empty years, except for those moments she spent with her son. Her little boy, Charlie, who to her dismay everyday looked more like his father.

Where was James now? She thought to herself, thoughts of their last day together, making love all night, all through the morning and past lunch, until time came for her to leave—for good. To die.

Vesper's whole body shook with heavy sobs as she remembered the drowning, how she had tried to kill herself, and succeeded... however her body had come out not too damaged, not enough, obviously, for her not having died, and not damaged enough to secure a month old fetus she didn't even suspect was growing in her womb.

Vesper cried hard, angry, sad, miserable, hot tears rolling down her cheeks, her blue eyes as gray as the heavy clouds outside, heavy with remorse, guilt, love, hate for herself... heavy for her son who was growing up with a father and heavy for the father who was growing old without knowing his son.

She cried until her shoulders hurt, until her eyes stung, until the alcohol had numbed her hurting heart. The room around her started turning dark, dark, dark, until she saw nothing but blackness and felt nothing, nothing, nothing.

…...

The next morning was a Saturday and Charlie Lynd jumped out of his bed at nine am aware and excited it was the weekend and there would be no school.

He gathered the lego box from his shelf and his big pirate ship and zoo animals and started building a whole deserted island, with palm trees and only a small log cabin he built and the bright red lego jet plane.

He had just finished hanging the tiny brown monkeys on the branches of the tree, after trying for a good twenty-minutes to put them in the right position as not to fall. His tummy started to rumble and as he carefully got up, inspecting his fantasy land, he walked towards the door, his Beagle, Eulalie, patiently waiting by his door, wagging her tail with excitement as she saw him. Charlie signalled for her to follow him inside his mother's bedroom, from where he could here music. The Piaf he recognized. His mum liked the old records.

Charlie pushed the door open and found Vesper laying in the middle of her bed, the wine glass and bottle close to her feet, which he reached up to put on top of the sidetable and then jumped up the bed, crawling towards her and then curling into her body, his head under her chin.

"Maman, I'm hungry..." He said, nudging her with his head. "Get up!" Vesper mumbled in her sleep, her voice was especially hoarse today and still with her eyes closed, caressed her little boy's golden hair, the last of his baby curls on the edges.

"When are you not hungry, Charles?" she answered a full minute later, beginning to wake, her face scrunching up because of the light pouring through the glass French-doors that lead to her porches.

"I'm really hungry, I woke up hours ago... sleepy head." He contested, earning a chuckle from his mother, who's head hurt with every centimeter she tried to move.

"Mum's head hurts, close the curtains for me?" Charlie slowly got up, shut the curtains, turned off her music which he couldn't stand for much longer. "Thank you, mon pètit." Charlie tugged on her hand and Vesper finally found the courage to move and get up... she really had no choice. "Tre bien, let's go eat. Coffee per moi and tea and toast for you, bon monsieur?" Charlie smiled hugely and ran down the stairs.

Vesper arrived in the kitchen and went straight for the top shelf of her pantry, to her medicine cabinet and took out a couple of aspirins which she set on top of a napkin, for her to take as soon as she had some to eat.

"Toast with strawberry jam." Charlie answered before his mother could ask and Vesper shook her head, "Do we have juice?"

"Yes, there's orange juice and if you like I can make you some pear juice-" Vesper went on as she set her mug under her coffee maker and four slices of 7-grain bread in the toaster.

"Could I have just a pair?" Vesper nodded and Charlie caught the pear she threw at him.

"So, what are our plans for today?" Vesper asked him as she turned off the stove where Charlie's tea kettle began whistling, pouring the boiling water inside his dinossaur mug where the packet of red-fruit flavoured tea awaited.

"The planetarium, and then the park and then the library!" Vesper chuckled as she spread the jam on Charlie's two slices of toast and set them before him.

"Charles, we went to the planetarium last Saturday and the Saturday before that, son. I was hoping we could do something different..."

"But..." Vesper eyed him sternly, immediately halting his attempt at interrupting her speech.

"We can go to the park and then the library and we meet with grandmère for lunch and you stay with her until tomorrow morning, can you do that?" Charlie pouted.

"And you'll be alone?" Vesper rolled her eyes and then caressed her overprotective son's cheek.

"Charlie, mum's an adult, she's been around a long time before you were born. I can fend for myself for a day, besides, it's not the first time. Grandmère said she wants to take you to see the opera, The Magic Flute's playing at the opera house. How's that?" Charlie cringed and Vesper smiled, smacking him playfully with her dish towel. "Charlie, you like the Magic Flute, you told me you want to learn how to play it on the piano. What's wrong?" Charlie's intense, bright blue eyes locked with her's and Vesper could feel all the worry he felt emanate from his little body.

"You were listening to the sad song... all night." Vesper sighed desperately and held his face in her hands, kissing his forehead.

"I was sad, love, everyone gets sad once in a while. I'm okay, I plan on getting some work done today and then going to the cinema with tante Aurora and Elisette."

"What film?" Vesper rolled her eyes once more and smiled.

"I don't know, we're in between _La Belle et la Bête_ (_A/N: Beauty and the Beast, 1946, by Jean Cocteau_) and _Hiroshima, Mon Amour_ (_A/N: Alain Resnais, 1959_)."

"Old movies?" Vesper nodded and Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Why do you only like old music and old films?" Vesper smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Everything in black in white seams more magical, and everything with the sound of a needle reminds me of when I was a little girl, when there were no worries, no job to be done, no bills to be paid. Just play."

"I'll go with grandmère if you let me have some petit-gâteau tomorrow before bed!" He challenged and Vesper nodded with a sigh.

"Fine, if you want your teeth to rot. Just not before bed all right? After lunch?" Charlie stook his hand out for her to shake to which Vesper complied. "Behave at the opera, I guarantee you'll love it."

"Okay. Watch _Beauty and the Beast_, okay, mum? Bombs aren't nice." Charlie stated before he got up, set his plate and mug on the sink counter and went up to his bedroom.

"How do you know there was a bomb in Hiroshima? Charles!" Vesper called after him but it was no use. He was just like his father. "God help me!" She said with a huff.

…...

**C'est finite, for now. Reviews are very much welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

James Bond stood in the middle of King's Cross Station in London, a single suitcase in his hand, a gun strapped on his leg, concealed by his pant leg and a single piece of paper in the inside pocket of his leather jacket, nothing but an address written in the late M's cursive handwriting.

He didn't know what to expect. What was this bloody address for, who did it belong to? He checked with all the sources he could, all they had on the sub-corner house (thanks to satellite images) was that three decades ago it had been the French residence of a British play and movie writer, Charles Florence, and that after his premature death it was left to his wife and two daughters, Amèlie Marchand and Béatrice and Catherine Florence, who were all actresses, the two daughters still living old ladies.

He tried to dig deeper, surely there would be more information on three famous French actresses lives. All he found was that Catherine Florence had married a Swiss diplomat and moved around with him, having quit her career for good at age 36. She had two sons and a daughter who were unimportant, or at least he judged it that way.

However, Béatrice, the older sister was more "interesting". She had married the suicidal author and poet Guillaume Guignard and had one daughter, an actress, a certain woman by the name of Eva Florence Guignard, a very famous actress and sex symbol between the seventies up until her mysterious death in the late eighties. He needed to know more about this woman, something, his guts told him or better yet, wouldn't allow him any peace once he found out. His mother, Monique Delacroix had also been an actress, could it be some sort of connection with her?

The train arrived and halted and James hopped up, quickly finding his place in first class. Perks of being a governmental agent... but then again he wasn't anymore, as of yesterday at midnight. Mallory had agreed to revoke his contract, finally making a choice where Bond couldn't possibly make a decision. He had one last mission, a personal mission, and it was towards this certain Béatrice Florence who he vowed to find.

…...

Madame Béatrice sat quietly reading a book inside her favorite Bistro, one she spent most of her youth in, interacting with the more young, creative and intelectual personalities of Paris and surroundings. She glanced at the old but nevertheless beautiful grandfather clock in the back, thirty minutes past twelve. Where was her granddaughter? Had they finally got to her?

Bibi, as she was called by the more intimate, could not and would never grow accostumed by this risk of persecution her granddaughter and her great-grandson lived with every day. If they were more than ten minutes late, her poor old heart would start beating more rapidly in her chest. Twenty minutes late and her hands would start to shake and her skin would pale and thirty minutes, she would want to cry. Luckily for her though, she could hear young Charles' laughter coming from outside of Le Fleur's.

"Ve-Estelle... you're late, had me worried!"

Another thing she would never become used to: calling her girl, now a grown, independent woman of thirty-five years by a name that wasn't hers. Estelle? Something the M16, the boss of it, the one who died some months ago had chosen, something that Vesper reminded you of, but also, something that was always present, even when unseen. That's what Vesper was now. A star.

"I'm sorry, we took much longer in the playground than we realized." Vesper leaned down to hug and kiss her beloved grandmère, just about the only mother she could remember, on the face and lips. "How are you, how is André?"

André was Madame Béatrice's lifelong best friend. He was someone she met at the ripe age of seventeen when she first decided, against her parents' will, to be an actress. Béatrice's story with André was a long and complicated one. She had married Guillaume very young at age 20, barely a stage actress and he barely a writer. André however, had never married. At first, Béatrice thought it was for spite but as years passed them, like a wink of an eye, she realized that the reason André had never married, Virginie, Marcelle, Vivienne, Eloise, Annette, Adelia, Susannah and Marina, all the women he had said he loved and who he had the most serious and long-lasting relationships, was because he refused to marry anyone he didn't love—meaning herself. This was something new, that Béatrice had only realized twenty-nine years ago when her husband died. André had loved her.

"André is fine, he went to visit his sister Joanne in Provence, her husband's been sick of the stomach and wont last much longer. He insists upon bringing her to live with us, I agree, but Joanne is very stubborne and wont leave her vineyard. At this stage of life, you know, Essie, it's when we need to spend the most of time with our loved ones." Vesper nodded and laced her fingers with her grandmother's.

"That's for always Bibi, not just old age." Vesper looked down at her son who was preoccupied with his new book from the library.

Bibi and Vesper stayed silent for a long while, just analyzing each other's faces. Bibi saw the sadness, the loneliness and the remorse in her granddaughter's eyes, today more apparent than most. She knew the date also, it hurt her also. The day she had received a letter from the Italian government with the obituary letter of her granddaughter, half of Bibi died, until ten months later her girl was knocking at her door again, this time with a baby in her arms instead of a runaway school girl's crying form in a knee-length plaid skirt. Vesper had sneaked herself inside a train and travelled all the way from Scotland to London and then bought herself a ticket, no other money for food and had come home to her. She always did.

"You could just stay with us today, Estelle." Béatrice said after a long while, motioning towards Charlie who chewed pleasantly on his ratatouille, while drawing with the given crayons the images of the rat from the animated film.

"I can't, I need time for myself, only tonight." Bibi nodded.

"What you need my love is to be loved... how long has it been?" Vesper blushed deeply and glanced at her curious son with alarm.

"Mama, grandmère and I will have lots of fun at the opera later! You should come!"

"It's okay, Charles, your Maman can stay at home, we'll have a great time and then gloat at her!" Charles chuckled, but stopped with a stern look from his mother.

"It's not nice to gloat, son. Bibi knows that, right Bibi?" She said, glancing back at the old woman who's faced was masked with mocking innocence, just to amuse her great-grandson.

"Oh yes, of course! I know mummy!" She said, immitating a child's voice, her lips, identical to Vesper's pouting and a devilish gleam in her blue-gray eyes.

Charles couldn't contain his laughter and thanks to grandmère once again, the tension resulting from Vesper's gloom was once more disguised.

…...

James arrived in Paris at nightfall. He glanced at the street clock and was relieved to see it wasn't so late as to make Madame Béatrice an impromptu visit at her home. He hailed a cab and gave him the address he found on the internet. Before anything, he needed to know with this woman what is it he would find at the address M had given him.

James looked out of his windows, Paris was prettiest at night time, especially in the rain. However, giving the day, he was sick of rain, sick of gray skies, the skies of London and England in general. Six years as of today, the only woman he ever loved and foolishly, stupidly, unwisely so died. Took her own life, choosing to drown, when he could have saved her. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How stupid had they both been?

The car parked in front of a tall neo-classic building with a fancy entrance and a doorman at the door. James paid the driver and got out, quickly retrieving his luggage from the back.

"Merci." He said and the cab drove off. For a moment, James examined his reflection in the glass window of the thick wooden doors and spoke to the man. "Is Madame Béatrice home, I'm a nephew of hers, Madame Catherine. Do you know my mother?" He spoke in fluent French and the doorman confirmed and nodded with a smile.

"Oui, oui, Madame is at home, fifth floor as I am sure you know. Please send good Madame Catherine my good wishes, my wife very much enjoyed the chocolates she brought last Easter."

"Of course, of course. Good evening!" James pressed the button for the elevator, a tad surprised that such a socialite would care enough to remember to give the doorman chocolates. Definitely not something you see or hear of everyday.

In only two minutes and without interruptions he was on the fifth floor and a single red house door was in sight. Penthouses. James walked over and examined the colorful rug with "Bienvenue" written in cursive writing and pressed the doorbell.

A few minutes later a short blonde haired woman opened the door. She wore pantsuits and a lavender dress shirt. Judging by bags under her eyes and the slow walking she was a business woman, most likely a workaholic or a single mother, perhaps both, but her big brown eyes were pleasant and kind.

"Yes, good evening?" She asked in French. James smiled and stook out his right hand. She had a ring.

"I am James... Delacroix, I came to see Madame Béatrice."

"And you certainly aren't one of our cousins. I'm Elisette, her husband's daughter. May I ask from where do you know her?"

"I don't. I came on a whim actually, hoping to speak to her... I don't know what it is concerned myself. My... mother died and gave me an address, I researched and found out Madame Béatrice was linked to it. Is she in?"

"Y-yes..." Elisette hesitated. Ever since Vesper had come back from the living they had been living their lives on the edge. She very much doubted that her step-mother would accept some sort of stranger into her home. "Mind waiting there while I fetch her?" James shook his head and watched as the woman walked quickly inside a room that seemed to be some sort of study. Less than five minutes later and a nearly eighty year old woman walked towards him, wearing an elegant knee-lengthed black velvet dress.

Despite her age, James gave her her credit. Madame Béatrice was the most beautiful old woman he had ever seen. Tall, svelte with generous breasts and shiny, silver hair in a cascade of curls. Her blue-gray eyes were intense and her still dark brows heavy above them... he knew those eyes. He knew those eyes very well.

Béatrice had make-up on but unlike many of the old women he knew, especially considering she was an actress, nothing exagerated and despite it all, there were barely any lines on her face making her look almost twenty years younger.

"I didn't go through plastic surgery if that's what you are think, Monsieur." She sad in a very breathy tone, quite the mysterious but quite... stiff. He'd seen this before. Why did this date have so much effect on him, enough for him to see and recognize the woman he lost in everyone and everything?

"I'm James... Delacroix." He said offering his hand. The woman stood in arms distance from him, her gaze meeting his as well as hands.

"You hesitated, that last name isn't yours. James. Why do you look so familiar, those eyes!" Béatrice smiled widely until she realized this wasn't good, wasn't good at all. "You're British?" He nodded, "You certainly look like it. Please, come to my study, I'm curious, very curious as to what in the bloody hell brought you all the way here to my home." She said in English this time, with a slight accent he was positive he recognized.

They settled with two cups of coffee, ever the French, and sat silently in front of one another, the portrait of a young woman with a man behind her and two little girls, one on her lap and the other standing to her left over the fireplace.

"My family. Mother, father, myself at her side and my sister Catherine, two years younger than me in her arms." James couldn't help but think how beautiful Amélie Florence was. "What would you like to know?" Béatrice asked him, suspiciously. James handed her the address, which Béatrice re-read several times over, an address she recognized very well. "I haven't much time this evening, Mr. James, I am going to an opera now. Would you be kind enough as to return tomorrow, at the same time?" James nodded.

"You will be able to tell me?" He asked suspiciously, taking her hand into his.

"Yes." Béatrice responded with a conviction and stubborness that James couldn't doubt. "I'm old Mr. James, not stupid. I know exactly what brought you here and I ask of you only two things: be gentle and be patient. I will help you to discover the meaning of this address, what it represents to myself, my family and what it represents to you. Be _patient_."

"Merci, Madame." Béatrice nodded and smiled knowingly at him.

"I remind you of someone. You too remind me of another someone. Let me guide you to the door, Mr. James." Bond followed her out and decided to respect the woman.

He would go to a hotel, sleep over this whole ordeal and meet with her the next night.

Yes, he was itching and contorcing to know the truth, but the French would be French and he knew it wouldn't be as simple and quick as he hoped. All he wished though, was that the wait would be worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you everyone who reviewed **(merci beaucoup, Daniel Bond! I felt so honored with your review, and let me tell you, **_**Je ne parle pas française!**_**)**, Thank you very much **GreenVelvetCurtain** for both your reviews that got me smiling from ear-to-ear and even more motivated to write!

Thank you **JustOlga**, I hope the category detail got fixed, I did check it out. And finally, **Aserste**, thank you so much for the support!

_L'amour est un oiseau rebelle..._

—Georges Bizet

Vesper sat alone, on a wooden bench by the river. Thanks to the winds the water's smell wasn't perceptible. She had been sitting here for the past three hours, Eulalie, her Beagle had fallen asleep by her shoes after running around the grass, exploring and doing her business.

It was now too dark to write, eight o'clock in Paris, the city lights and the buildings replacing the natural brightness of the stars, just as her grief masqueraded her existence. Vesper had always been the star, always kept invisible for no one to see, to hear, to count on.

After her son had been born, Vesper had found a source of strength, someone she could love, care for and know she existed and love and care for her just as much. Vesper had found a meaning to live, her son, her Charlie.

The time, only a month, she had spent with James Bond as his girlfriend—she didn't even know for sure if she could call herself that—or better yet, his lover had been some of the happiest days of her life. The moments of course, where the events of the outside world, Quantum, Le Chiffre and his many "workers", the fear of change and of dying and most of all of James dying, didn't invade their little personal love bubble.

Her pregnancy had been like that, like that bubble of love. In a moment of true deep darkness in her life, where she no longer could be Vesper Lynd, orphaned daughter of Eva Florence Guignard and Hugo Lynd, twin sister (older by three minutes) of Aurora Lynd and the beloved granddaughter of Béatrice Florence, the pregnancy had come to show her some light. Show her that she could move on, that life continued and that she had at least done one good thing with her life: brought to the world a child made out of love, a child who would grow up to be a decent man and most likely have a better and less miserable life than she had.

It had started to rain the moment Vesper's tears had started falling. She hated crying and usually refrained her tears, her feelings and her heart from releasing her from the numbness she felt in everyday life. Was this depression? Could be, if only Vesper could afford to be depressed. She was after all a single mother and happy with her son, when with her son. She worked and was happy at work, had even made a friend or another and once in a while went out for drinks. She had also dated, a man or two after she judged her son was old enough to stay with the nanny a couple of hours. She had read every book she had written the titles in the diary she wrote at age nineteen. She had travelled twice a year with her son and she was okay, she had a home, a job and a family, whereas so many in Paris and Europe were suffering with the economical crisis.

Vesper was happy, just not always, like 24/7, but who was anyway?

With all the losses she had suffered in her life from the ripe age of six, she should be used to lose and live and move on without the people she loved, but as always, everything's easier said than done. Her mother had died in a plane crash when she was six, on her way back home returning from Naples where she had been filming. Less than two years later her father had also taken his life, weakened and blind with grief from the loss of his wife and companion and so, Vesper and her sister had gone to live with Grandmère who they already spent most of their time with anyway.

A year and a half later, Vesper's grandfather killed himself out of love. Love for the husband of his secretary.

This is why Vesper never wanted to be an artist. Artists felt everything too strongly. They were naturally sensitive and tended to exaggerate in everything they did or felt, at least that's how she saw it. Everyone who died or simply committed suicide in her family had been artists and that was the main reason for Vesper to never had acted on her very deep longing to be an opera singer. Yes, Vesper had wanted to be an opera singer, as beautiful and great and unique as Maria Callas, her idol.

Vesper studied music and studied hard. She began learning the piano with her grandfather at age five and by the time she as twelve, Vesper was studying in the conservatoire. However, as much as she loved the instrument and felt good playing and listening to it, Vesper had always been a practical one and thought that the voice, something that was constantly with her, that she didn't need to carry, wasn't heavy and could be anything she wanted, that was what Vesper Lynd at age thirteen wanted to explore, and she did.

While Aurora her sister, threw herself deeply into the arts of violin playing and researching ancient violin compositions, Vesper sung everything from Verdi to Bossa Nova. It was at age seventeen though, that Vesper had her major fall out. In her last year, her teacher had asked her to replace an actress from the theatrical production he was working with as she had given up last minute. Vesper accepted, practiced the parts, went to the fittings and had interpreted very well.

It was the day after her performance that Vesper made the life long decision of not becoming an artist, it was the headlines of the Bravo! Art Magazine that Vesper, her sister and basically whole family and friends devoured: "Vèsper Guignard is the new Eva and the soul, personality and shadow of father Hugo Lynd." Vesper Lynd, by no means wanted to be her mother, by no means did she want to be the shadow of her father, a man who she had grown to despise for having been weak and in his weakness having drunk himself to madness and abandoned his children to death.

Vesper had been ashamed of her father and ashamed of her mother for having, given more importance to her career than to her family. She did not want to be compared to them, did not want her name in the same sentence as theirs.

Vesper was her own person and she refused—with all her might—to be like her parents in any way. And so in the end of her music course, of which she still kept the diploma, all straight A's, Vesper went to college, and she didn't leave to study Lyrical Singing at the Conservatorio Santa Cecilia in Rome, she had gone to London, of all places, a place where she was invisible and studied something she never thought she would—economics and public administration.

Vesper noticed the dark clouds huddling together to pour over her head, clasped the lilac leash back on the collar of her pet and walked swiftly towards her car, a cherry-red Fiat 500. She drove back home, the radio on and her pendrive playing Ornella Vanoni (famous Italian singer) singing the Brazilian poet and diplomat, Vinicius de Moraes' (one of the fathers of Bossa Nova) chanson, "La Rosa Spogliata", a little bit cheery but not _too_ happy, just as she was starting to feel.

…...

James sat at the restaurant of his five-star hotel, having his martini before he went to bed when he saw from the corner of his eye the silhouette of a shapely blonde woman in a coral-colored long linen skirt and a light white blouse, as if it were summertime already. She had a warm, sensual laugh and full rosie lips he oh-so wanted to kiss... not to mention her very nice legs.

Bond was never one to be shy towards women and with this girl, most likely in her mid-twenties, it wouldn't be any different.

James approached the bar and sat with only another stool between them. He pretended to not pay attention when she turned her head to look at him and smiled, letting out a bit of a smile.

"Why'd you switch tables?" She asked him in French, although with a Swiss accent. Only a Swiss could walk around in Paris, this time of the year in summer clothes, he mused.

"I was attracted by your beauty..." He said with a smirk, his blue eyed gleaming in a boy-like pleasure. She just laughed.

"Je suis Michelle, et vous?" She asked, holding out her hand for him to shake.

"Bond, James Bond." He said, taking her hand in his and instead of shaking it, kissing it while staring suggestively at her. Michelle smiled, trying to conceal it by biting her lower lip.

"I'm in room 7023, meet me after one." She said dismissively, standing from her seat, grabbing her purse and walking away, adding an extra sway to her hips, knowing he'd be looking.

James smiled to himself, asked for another martini and then went up to his room for a bath and maybe to read, he was afterall, ten years late with his book list.

As he entered his bedroom, taped on the cover of "Name of The Rose" by Umberto Eco was a small folded piece of paper.

Bond opened it and read the cursive loops of a woman's writing.

_James, _

_Meet me tomorrow at an Argentine restaurant at Rue de Voltaire, 702, La Soledad, for lunch._

_Bring a coat and a camera._

_Béatrice Florence_

James closed the letter with a smile, the woman was a little minx.

…...

Vesper stood in her kitchen, it was half-past one and she was in the middle of cooking her prize meat strogonoff, that she had learned with a Brazilian friend from college, Isabela Ferreira, who also showed her everything she knew about the culture, the music, dance, theatre, cinema, geography and history of her country, that Vesper made it her top priority to visit last year for hers and Charlie's vacation, for which she took off two months from work.

She had her favorite opera, _Carmen_, on a very high volume, to which she sang along to Maria Callas, her idol, flawlessly. There wasn't a low moment in Vesper's life that "_L'amour est une oiseau rebelle_" didn't remedy, at least momentarily, and the _Flower Song_? Vesper had listened to it all through her pregnancy, and had even asked the doctors to play it for her while she gave birth, to relax.

As Vesper was finishing the dishes and lowered the stove heat, her doorbell rung twice and less than two minutes later, her twin sister, although fraternal (and extremely different from her except in the eyes, skin, height and hair), walked inside, leaving her deep violet jacket over a dining chair and gulping down the remnants of wine from Vesper's glass.

"Essie, Elisette called me... Seems like Bibi made a new friend." She said with a seriousness that left Vesper on edge, "your secret wont last much longer—what do we do?"

"Nothing." Vesper said just as serious, shrugging the news off as if it hadn't impacted her in a way that she felt about to faint. She served herself more wine, downed it all at once (a sin, really) and then served a glass for Aurora.

"What do we do, Vesper?" She asked once again, taking her sister's hands into her own, holding them tight. Vesper just looked into her sister's big blue-gray eyes, seeing and feeling all the fear Aurora felt for her life and Charlie's, but most of all, the fear of the to being separated by fate once again.

Vesper, unable to hold her grief in for much longer, which she hated but had allowed to happen very often the last few days, sobbed and cried like a baby in Aurora's arms.

A/N: Once again, thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4 part One

**A/N:** _Thank you everyone for your reviews and continued support, you always make me smile!_

**Disclaimer:** This is the first time I'm doing this, I'm not sure if it's necessary but here it goes: If I were Ian Fleming and/or owned 007, I wouldn't have killed Vesper off.

…...

Three days later...

"He didn't appear for the dinner I invited him to, he's not at his hotel and no one has seen him!" Béatrice Florence cried loudly as she barged inside her granddaughter's home, where Vesper sat on the floor of her living room finishing up some of her paperwork.

Vesper quickly got up, walked over to her grandmother, her eyes portraying a mixture of fear, annoyance and relief, perhaps. Béatrice had been finding it harder and harder to read her girl lately.

"What do you mean, Bibi what do you mean?" Vesper's voice grew louder as the news settled in, stress lines appearing almost instantly on her forhead and corner of her eyes. "Are you sure he's not there, he's full of enemies he's probably under some other name-" Béatrice shook her head.

"He was registered under James Wellington, suite 1006... see for yourself, he didn't check out!" Vesper read the scribbled words in his handwriting, she could recognize it very well, and sighed heavily.

"Stay with Charlie, please, I'm—I'm going to look for him..." Vesper ran up to her room, put on some dark blue jeans, a loose white v-neck shirt, leather boots and a red velvet coat over it, hiding a gun she kept inside her closet safe at the back of her pants.

After she "died" and found out she'd been pregnant, Vesper had grown even more self-aware and felt deeply in need of a form of protection, and so, for two years she had gone off to shooting ranges and learned how to manage several types of guns, and she found in it, to her surprise, a good way to relax.

Vesper grabbed her bag, threw her wallet, keys and a small first aid kit inside (these were the few moments she gave thanks to these giant handbags that were so fashionable).

She went inside sleeping Charlie's bedroom, kissed him goodbye and went out of the house in a storm.

…...

Vesper arrived at the hotel and asked for James Wellington, saying she was his ex-wife and lied saying that it was concerning Mr. Wellington's father Mr. Francis Wellington who had passed away.

The clerk guided her to the hotel manager, monsieur Gerard Relais' office who explained to her that the last time Mr. Wellington had been seen (as witnessed by camera) was entering mademoiselle Michelle Mastersky's suite at 1: 23 am, two days prior.

"He entered the room monsieur Relais, and didn't come out?" Vesper was beginning to grow angry, her blue eyes now impassive and almost murderous. "Did you look in her room, did you see her or speak to her?" monsieur Relais nodded, nervously.

"She is still here at the hotel, madame, if you wish to speak to her. She is scheduled to leave in an hour."

"I will speak to her thank you." The man just kept staring at her, almost shaking. If the circumstances were others, Vesper would have laughed. "Mr. Relais! Take me to speak with her at once, there is no need to announce!"

The man jumped up from his seat and guided her, walking quickly, she right next to him, towards the golden-doored elevator, entering it and then leaving it in the seventh floor.

Mr. Relais knocked on the door twice until mademoiselle Mastersky answered, dressed in a towel, her blonde hair up with a few humid strands falling over her face.

Vesper frowned deeply at the woman's superficial beauty, thinking how on earth could James be attracted to such an obnoxious looking piece of rubbish.

"Mademoiselle, this is madame Wellington, she is here to inquire of her husband, Mr. Wellington." The woman raised a brow and glanced at Vesper scrutinizingly, frowning once she couldn't find any sort of—defect.

"Yes?" Vesper turned to Mr. Relais and dismissed him with a stern glass, pulling Michelle inside the room harshly and throwing her in the armchair. "Oh, Mrs. Wellington, I am not a lesbian, nor do I enjoy bondage..." She said, with her green eyes gleaming cruelly, her pink lips curling into a devilish smile.

Vesper ignored her remark and sat on the chair in front of her not uttering a word, bot coaxing the lady into speaking just with a long glare, something she had perfected over the years with her son.

"You're here for Bond I presume..." Vesper didn't answer, only crossed her arms over her chest. "I bet you're so lousy in bed and that is why he comes looking for pleasure in places that aren't-" Vesper got up and slapped the woman hard on the face.

"Where is James Bond?" She asked in a whisper, hovering over the blonde and her blue eyes sharp and fearless. Michelle didn't respond, "where is James Bond you worthless excuse of a woman?" She asked again, shaking Michelle who still kept quiet, glaring at her angrily.

"He's gone to hell to his mummy, _darling_." Michelle responded, once Vesper repeated her question for the third time. Vesper slapped her again and Michelle let out a yelp. Vesper's nails had made a long line of blood across her cheek that now stung. "I don't know you brute, Lemmertz took him, Gustaf Lemmertz!" She yelled and Vesper let go of her.

"You've told him with whom, but to where? To where?" Vesper questioned, reaching for her gun which she pointed straight to Michelle's forhead, not a meter away.

"Outside of town, five kilometers to Versailles, it's two story, old brick mansion."

"It's guarded." It wasn't a question, "by Gustaf Lemmertz you say, how many men?"

"What, you think you can up and go fight them, what are you an amazona?" Michelle questioned, her voice filled with pure hatred.

"How many men Michelle..." Vesper glanced towards a tattoo the woman had on her pulse, alongside the childlike drawing of a girl, "and I'll let you go back home, unscathed, to your daughter Ramona." Michelle was about to ask her how she knew when she realized Vesper had seen her tattoo and hid it. "How old is she?"

"Seven." Michelle asked with tears threatening to fall. Truly, no matter how hard or cold the heart, a true mother's weak point was always her child.

"I lost my mother at age six. Do you want your daughter to lose you, to death _or_ to jail?" Michelle shook her head, "I gather you know what it's like, to lose someone you love, to feel like you're alone in the world, I too know that feeling. Tell me how I can bring him home and how I can save him!"

"Lemmertz has only three men, three brutes with far less brains than taught hand muscles. Three men guarding only two entrances. On the first there are Eugène and Mark and at the back, alone is Houghton, he's stronger."

"Why was he there, do you know?" Michelle rolled her eyes, becoming irritated all over again.

"A man Bond killed, a man from South America, Silva, Lemmertz was a childhood friend of his, from when his family was exiled there. Later on they became allies."

"And you in all this?" Vesper asked, leaning down, her face only a few inches from Michelle's. Blue eyes looking deeply into green ones with so much ressentment.

"Bait, and Gustaf's lover."

"And let me guess, Ramona is his bastard child?" Michelle became livid, confirming Vesper's suspicions. "And he refuses to leave his wife or whom ever for you and so you try to gain his love by stooping as low as prostituting yourself, to gain his trust and attention. Don't you get it, you're waisting your time!" Michelle was angry, in denial and angry. "From mother to mother, Michelle, take your girl and disappear, get away from this life and never look back. It consumes you, abuses you and then leaves you to rot."

Vesper put away her gun, took her bag and made her way towards the suite door. As she was about to open it and leave, she turned back at Michelle:

"I'd apply ice on that cheek of yours and then do as I said. Your Gustaf will want to kill you and your Ramona once he finds out you sold him out to me. Have a good life, Ms. Mastersky." Vesper left and ran towards the elevator, determined to find James.

…...

Vesper got inside her car and drove off towards le jardin des touleries and called the contact M had given her inside the M16, if she were not to be found.

"Mr. Mallory, this is Vesper Lynd an old acquaintance of the former M, I have information on an agent of yours, Bond..."

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 4 part Two

A/N: Finally! Here's the second part!

Disclaimer: I do not own James Bond or Vesper Lynd.

Vesper waited impatiently as the local M16 agents questioned Michelle Mastersky, only taking longer to confirm what Vesper had already passed on to them, two bloody hours ago. She watched, her nerves and feelings overwhelmed, worried like hell about her son's father.

Agent Z (Zed, not zee), kept her in the private lounge of the British Embassy, with tea and some butter cookie, that instead of helping only left her even more overwhelmed.

"Madame Lynd, what you did earlier this evening was completely reckless and stupid, not to mention a crime, but I have to recognize your bravery and strength, as well as self-control. Gladly for us and yourself, you didn't kill the woman..." agent Z paused, for dramatic effect and took a sip of his own tea. "Agents are already on their way to this hiding place both you and Madame Mastersky described—and not to be rude or anything madame, but I never thought a ruthless and womanizing man such as 007 would be married..." Vesper shook her head, her cheeks flushed, once she realized the true depths of her impulsive actions tonight. What if she had been hurt or worse, killed, how reckless had she been, not thinking twice about leaving her little son alone at home, just with her elderly grandmother!

"We're not, it was a cover, for the hotelier to allow me access to information on James' whereabouts." She noticed agent Z eyeing the golden ring with a giant ruby and two medium-cut diamonds on both ends, unbelieving. A writing, in French engraved: _"mon coeur est a vous,"_ the simplest of sayings, my heart is yours, but that to Vesper's parents had such a strong meaning... For the first time in her life, Vesper desired something like that, but as it had been her whole life, she was afraid and because of it, would always cower away from love. "This ring, was my mother's..." Vesper explained, sipping her now cooled tea distastefully.

"Ah yes, the late Eva Florence Guignard... I know, I am a fan of a film she was in, playing Mary the Queen of Scots." Vesper cringed at this recognition and Agent Z could tell she wasn't exactly inclined in talking of her dead mother or historical films, but of the still missing double-0.

"Were you a conquest of his?" The man asked moments later, his eyes not meeting Vesper's afraid of her reaction. The woman stayed silent for a moment, wide-eyed and not knowing what to say. She realized though, that James' fame with the ladies was probably a popular subject within the MI6.

"I was—you know what, sir, I don't know what the hell I was to him or what he was to me, all I know is that he is the father of the boy currently sleeping at my home. A boy he knows nothing about." Vesper blinked, holding back frustrated tears, a headache beginning to form between her brows.

That moment, Agent Z's phone rung and he got up to answer it in another room. Two minutes, that felt more like centuried passed and the moment Agent Z reentered the room, Vesper stood up, straightening her hair, her head held up for good or bad news.

Agent Z sighed heavily and smiled towards Vesper, and a great sense of relief washed over Vesper.

"He is alive madame, but unconscious. The other agents have successfully captured 007's captivators and two of our agents are currently on the way with him to Mater Dei hospital. According to the medics he has suffered a great amount of blood loss and most likely a heavy concussion... also, they've detected mild internal abdominal hemorrage." Vesper crossed her arms tightly over her chest, nodding her head rapidly, as worried as it would be if it were Charlie.

"A-all that from such a short c-call?" She asked, disbelievingly.

"Yes, don't ask madame." Vesper nodded, unwilling to talk any further. "If you wish, I am free to escort you to the hospital..."

"Yes, yes, please... May I just quickly call home?" Agent Z nodded and allowed her to use the embassy's phone, leaving her in private.

Vesper dialled the number and waited impatiently for her grandmère to answer. After the fourth ring, Vesper was glad to hear her son's sleepy voice on the other end.

"Charlie, mon amour, what are you doing up? It's three in the morning!" Vesper questioned, "Are you feeling sick?"

"I had a bad dream, mama, when are you coming home? Aren't you tired?"

"Yes darling, I'm very tired, but mama has things to tend to. As soon as I can I'll go back home and be with you, all right?" Charlie answered with an aham and Vesper wasn't convinced. "Tell me about your dream... was it that snake again?"

"Cobra—no. I couldn't find you or grandmère in my dream, the only person there was tante Aurora and she was acting strange, acting mean and with black button eyes like in Coraline and I don't want her to!" Vesper could tell he was about to cry and decided both agent Z and James could wait, after all, she had contributed more than enough already...

"Charlie, which room are you in?" She asked, certain that he wasn't in his bedroom but probably wandering around the house while grandmère was asleep in the guest suite.

"In yours... Eulalie's with me, do you mind?"

"No darling, tonight I don't mind. Listen, Charlie, get under the covers, snuggled right in the middle and close your eyes..." Vesper said softly and after a pause, in which she expected her son to do as she said she continued, "are your eyes closed?" She could here a soft aham from Charlie, as the phone lay next to him on top of the pillow. "Okay, then... concentrate on mama's voice okay and think of that day we went to the vineyard and we slept under the stars, do you remember? I told you the story of Orion and the goddess Artemis and her huntresses. Now listen, Au clair de la lune, mon ami Pierrot,  
Prête-moi ta plume, pour écrire un mot.  
Ma chandelle est morte, je n'ai plus de feu.  
Ouvre-moi ta porte, pour l'amour de Dieu.

Au clair de la lune, Pierrot répondit :  
"Je n'ai pas de plume, je suis dans mon lit.  
Va chez la voisine, je crois qu'elle y est,  
Car dans sa cuisine, on bat le briquet."

Au clair de la lune, s'en fut Arlequin  
Frapper chez la brune. Elle répond soudain :  
"Qui frappe de la sorte ? Il dit à son tour :  
— Ouvrez votre porte, pour le Dieu d'Amour !"

Au clair de la lune, on n'y voit qu'un peu.  
On chercha la plume, on chercha du feu.  
En cherchant d'la sorte, je n'sais c'qu'on trouva.  
Mais je sais qu'la porte sur eux se ferma. Goodnight my love." Vesper whispered a moment later and hung up the phone.

"You've a nice voice madame," She heard agent Z compliment from the doorway and relieved that her son had finally fallen asleep, Vesper followed him out of the building and into his car.

…...

To Vesper it seemed like weeks had passed since she arrived at the hospital and sat on the leather armchair next to her former lover's bed. In truth, it had been two or three hours and her back was starting to grow sore. The nurses had been kind enough to bring her some vegetable soup and paracetamol for her headache, but nevertheless, Vesper refused to sleep, she couldn't believe that in a little while it would be time for Charlie to wake up and prepare for school and her for work.

Vesper made a mental note to call and notify her boss that she would take a few days off for health reasons and also, warn her irreverent grandmother that Charlie's school uniform was in the dryer and that he still had two math problems to solve before class. Also, that she and James were fine and that she'd pass by the house after lunch so that she could shower and fix supper for Charlie, before she returned to the hospital.

The stubborne Guignard that she was, Vesper wouldn't stay put until she saw James well and awake, laying in her bed. Well, not in the sexual or romantic sense of it, not even in her own bed rather than the guest bedroom, but well, out of the hospital and recuperating midst the comfort of Vesper's home.

…...

Forty minutes passed since Vesper made all the necessary phone calls and bid Charlie a good day at school, promising that as soon as he arrived home with grandmère, this time at grandmère's penthouse rather than their apartment, she would call so that they could talk about the preparations for his kindergarten graduation of which he was so excited.

Suddenly, as Vesper made a motion to open the bedroom curtains, the window revealing the old hospital's pretty courtyard with a large tree in the middle with flower beds everywhere and nurses in uniforms, guiding patients on wheelchairs for their morning sun, she saw from the corner of her eye, James finally stirring from his bed, less than ten minutes after the nurse applied him some medicine for him to wake up, they needed after all to see how bad his concussion was.

Vesper called the doctor, François Merimée, trying to contain her nagging curiosity on whether or not the sixty-something-year old man was related to the late Prosper Merimée, writer of Carmen, the story that inspired her favorite opera.

Vesper shifted her attentions—God how she was tired—back to James who's eyes had just flown open. Vesper could never have predicted the great and naucious sense of deja-vu she suddenly felt, like it were the time James recuperated from the Casino Royale mission, how funny, she thought, the way history tended to repeat itself...

She waited, her heart racing anxious for him to see her, for his eyes to adjust to the light and to realize he was in a hospital room.

"V-vesper?" He whispered, and Vesper moved closer to his side, reluctant to move or look into those beautiful blue eyes that captured her soul six years ago. "Does hell really look like a hospital?" Vesper, who's eyes were full of unshed tears, laughed and cried at the same time, shaking her head, unable to speak.

"Sometimes..." She answered finally, not believing that it had been so long since she last heard his voice, seen his eyes... Her womanly feelings, her desire for him, but also her fear of him kept Vesper grounded, glued to her spot, next to him, without touching him. "Are you all right, is it hurting?" She asked, her motherly instincts immediately kicking in.

"So I'm not dead—" Vesper nodded and looked away from him, so that he wouldn't see she was crying. But what was the use of it, he knew, she knew that he knew. "and nor are you?"

"I'm very much alive James..."

"If my head didn't hurt so much, I'd shoot you right now." James said, pretending to be unsurprised, but in reality, Vesper could sense every drop of coldness and truth in his words.

**A/N:** _Everyone, I'm deeply sorry for the long delay in posting the second and last part of this fourth chapter. I have had it written down for a while now, but due to my work, studies and family, I haven't been able to take some time to type and edit it. Please Review!_


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you all who reviewed, especially my faithful readers and constant supporters JustOlga and Daniel Bond. Merci beaucoup!**

**This chapter is dedicated to my older brother, who is sick and having a terrible time with some kidney problems.**

_**Disclaimer: James Bond isn't mine.**_

_Sadness doesn't have an end, happiness does._

_Happiness is like the drop of dew on a flower petal,_

_that shines tranquilly and then lightly oscilates,_

_like a tear of love._

_-Tom Jobim, A Felicidade (The Happiness), translated by Clara-Lis._

Vesper, despite James' unrelentless stubborness towards her presence, and even those of the doctors and nurses, stayed the whole day with him.

However, as her patience was growing short, so was James beginning to understand that she too was stubborne and not the least bit affected by his supposed indifference. Little did James know though, that Vesper could see right through him, and that the independent façade he tried to built, she had contoured already. Vesper Lynd was prepared to bring down his defenses and remove his armor from him, in order to tell him the truth. Her story and that of their son.

"Ma'am, your husband refuses to take his bath..." The nurse said coming towards her. The plump lady with big brown eyes and graying hair said, annoyed.

Vesper rolled her eyes and abandoned her laptop in the waiting area, next to one of the agents assigned to guard the bedroom James was in.

"What, is that bloody git five or something?" She hissed and barged into his room, her face angry and bothered, her hawk-like blue eyes glaring an imaginary hole of fire on his forhead. "Prepare his bath. If Monsieur Bond insists on acting like a baby, I might as well play house." James, raised his brow challengingly at her. "And trust me, James, I was never good at it as a little girl..."

"Why's that, wifey?" Vesper shook her head, annoyed beyond belief by his childishness—no, calling him childish would be offensive to her son and all children on Earth. James Bond was... _Bonding_.

"I enjoyed ripping all the dolls' heads off, especially off those dreadful, stupid baby dolls that belnged to my sister... the ones that cried." James rolled his eyes as Vesper nodded at the nurse to leave, the woman not understanding a word of their English speaking and approached him, ready to help him off his bed and into the adjacent bathroom.

"Mad are we?" He whispered, suddenly hissing in pain as his feet touched the ground, his broken ribs seeming to dig holes in his flesh.

"No, love, just anxious to see your bare arse again." Vesper said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though her eyes, dar she look into James', showed only frustration and... nostalgia.

"Ah yes, because accountants have a little more than imagination..." Vesper couldn't help but smile and chuckle at this, her face becoming full of brightness and color. James suddenly halted, not believing or trusting himself. He was in awe of this beautiful woman before him. She who had been out of his life for six years, she who had he loved for a month and then hated for the rest of all these years, leading up to this one moment, to her big, gorgeous smile, the hoarse but yet melodic timbre of her laugh and voice, and the power, strength and love in her intense blue eyes, all of which anyone else could mistake for coldness or pride.

"What, are you all right?" She asked, noticing his restraint. "James..."

"I'm tired, I want my bath." Vesper just stared at him for a moment, her expression resembling perhaps, one of a curious child, analyzing and registering some new discovery into her brain.

"Here, take your clothes off." She sat him on the toilet, giving him a few minutes time to try and untie his hospital gown. As he couldn't, for the very movement of his arms made his ribs hurt all the more, Vesper removed his tentative hands from the back of his hands, the very moment, as her hands, so soft, held his and brought them to his lap, released high jolts of energy through both their systems and suddenly the room felt like the Sahara desert itself.

"Ves-"

"It's Estelle, James, I've told you." She corrected, shaking away the feeling and avoiding his eyes. She couldn't bare for him to see what she felt, love, affection, neediness and very dilated pupils. But then again, his reflected the same.

Vesper untied his clothes and removed it from him, careful so that her hands didn't contact his skin more than necessary, trying as hard as she could not to roam her eyes over her body, but still catching eye of his latest scars, especially that of a bullet, right on his chest.

"An accident during a mission." Vesper nodded, her eyebrows knitting together.

"How did you survive? I'm no doctor but this..." she trailed off, her eyes finally meeting his again.

"Do you believe in God?" Vesper frowned and shook her head.

"I don't believe the names or titles people give forces high above knowledge. I don't believe or have a religion if that's what you want to know. Religion isn't so much belief as it is fanatism, I do respect people who are humble enough to have one. But I do believe in a force James and I do believe in faith, so that's something to think about, huh?" James just stared at her, astonished by the truth and profoundness of her words.

"My mother was Catholic..."

"So were my parents. They died before my first communion... my sister is religious though, sort of. Why are we talking about this, your water's cooling down..." Vesper helped James inside the tub and washed him with soap and a sponge she brought from home, washing and scrubbing and caressing every inch of him, even his manhood.

Right now, she wasn't so much his former lover than she was simply a friend.

…...

A while later, James was on his bed again, the nurses had changed his sheets into softer and nicer ones Vesper brought from home. Plain white Egyptian cotton, that held the scent of sunshine and wild flowers, and her. It smelled strongly of her and James was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep this night.

"I'm heading home for a few hours, I've some things to tend to, but I'll be back at about nine. Will you be okay?"

"Where are you living?" He asked, playing with the threads of his sleaves..

"_Passy_, my parents' house." He nodded, signalling for her to hand him his jacket, still dirty, that was draped over a chair. Vesper handed it to him without a word and watched as he pulled out a small wrinkled piece of paper from inside his pocket, glanced at whatever was written on it and then held it out for her to read.

"Is this yours?" He asked, laying his head tiredly on the pillow. Vesper read the address and nodded, shifting her eyes into his gaze, questioningly. "That's a note M, my former boss left me inside of this ridiculous bull dog she used to keep on her desk. It was inside of it, and when I accidentally broke it, I—the paper was, well, she left it for me."

"It's my home address. So she wanted you to come after me. Did you know from the beginning?"

"No, never even considered it. I hope you know the MI6 took care of your old boyfriend." He added nonchalantly, although deep down, Vesper, who's face had grown hard and pale like stone, James felt good of letting it out. Make it his very own little vendetta against her.

"I'm glad. Now I can sleep without remorse or fear they'll invade my home." Vesper answered him sarcastically. "Please know that... I've known about Yosef for a while, actually, since I returned to France and changed my identity. Your M, wrote me herself." James nodded. "I'll see you soon James." She grabbed her purse and sweater, thrown over his bed and was about to shut the door after her when he said,

"I missed you every second of the time we were apart..." He said, "thank you, for today, for helping to save me... again."

"That'a fine. Don't let your ego get the better of you, there's nothing you owe me James, but perhaps some understanding..." Vesper left the room, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, leaving James to hang on her last words until she returned.


	7. Chapter 6

Vesper arrived at her home a good forty minutes after she left the hospital, in what in normal days could have taken less than twenty minutes, but there had been a car accident and Vesper's head, with all the honking and the lack of sleep, seemed like it would explode. What she wouldn't give to be out of this city, with her son, and be calmly soaking by the large lake of her family vineyard in Provence, a glass of the delicious cabernet sauvignon that they produced and Joanne's decadent chocolate fudge cake with red fruit and hazelnut.

It was when she had caught herself dreaming with dessert that Vesper realized, that tomorrow would be Elisette's fortieth birthday party and that they would be celebrating it at the Montserrat Family Vineyard that weekend. Three days.

Vesper mentally punched herself... how could she have forgotten her best friend and sister-in-heart's birthday, especially this one? Four decades was a big deal for Elisette and she had planned a large family reunion between the Montserrat's, which were the family of Grandmère's husband André and the Florences who were coming all the way from England and the Guignard's from France, the south of Switzerland and Lebanon.

What would she do? Dear God, what would she do? She couldn't skip this family event, all her cousins and her crazy aunts and uncles... her own paternal grandmother who was from Iran and lived in Lebanon, the mother of her father Hugo, even she and her mother would come. Vesper hadn't seen Violette and Laila since she was a little girl! But what about James?

Vesper's reverie was broken however by the happy cry of her son, who came running into her arms. Vesper engulfed her little boy and twirled him around despite her aching back, smothering him with kisses.

"Hey, you... how was your day?" She asked, Charlie wrapping his arms around her neck and legs around her waist.

"Okay. I went to school and then I played with Sebastien and Ada all day and tante Elisette took us to the park and then we went out to buy Ada her new puppy, she's very cute and furry and likes to play! Ada named her Delilah... Can I have a puppy too? Please, please, please, for my birthday? Can it be a Dalmatian like Ada's, please, please, please?" He begged and Vesper made a face.

"I'll think about it, but first, I need to have a serious conversation with you..." When Vesper walked inside her kitchen and saw that Bibi had just taken out a delicious pot roast from the oven. Vesper's stomach grumbled involuntarily, "after we eat..." She put her son down, confused, but he shrugged and went up to his bedroom, returning with a large box of legos, dumping it in the middle of the living room. "Don't forget to pick those up after you finish or I'll give them to Xavier next door..." Vesper threatened, knowing very well that most nights, she was kept up late tidying his messes before bed, and usually, Charlie's messes took up the whole house.

"So, how is our James and your poor little heart?" Bibi whispered conspirationally, a childlike curiosity gleaming in her big blue eyes.

"Oh, he will live." Vesper responded annoyed, "I had forgotten how both annoying, tiring and, as much as it kills me, wonderful being in his company is." Beatrice smiled knowingly, as she prepared the mashed potatoes and Vesper got started on the salad. "He told me he missed me..."

"Was it romantic?" Beatrice asked and Vesper shook her head with a tired laugh. Bibi sounded terribly like a school girl and she had never seen such a behaviour on her grandmother. "Did you kiss?" Vesper shook her head once again, blushing deeply.

"No, but I did give him a bath..." Beatrice was now interested. She halted her potato pealing and a huge smile appeared on her face. "Please don't come with something sexual..." Vesper begged, her eyes forcefully shut, shuddering with the thought, but the plea entered one of grandmère's ears and went out the other.

"Is he as sexy as I imagined, God forbid—Oh Vesper I'm sorry, I know you saw him first but dear lord I couldn't help but imagine how his chest may be under those dress shirts... and that arse?!" Grandmère squealed in delight. Vesper just shook her head in dismay.

"He's the same... a few more scars, a little older but all the more charming and... he still has that aura, that makes every woman weak on the knees and just, plain attracted to him. But it isn't the body, well not too much, that attracts me..." Vesper sighed, not knowing how to put her thoughts into word.

"I know what it is. He's as damaged as you are, you can relate. But more than that, you like it that he has balls, that he doesn't see in you just another woman he can spend the night with, but a woman he could give everything up for. You love him because he took the time to fall in love with you for who you are and all that mysteriousness you carry within you, you love it that unlike other men, he sees and treats you like an equal and neither is he repelled by your sometimes stiff demeanor and your superficial coldness." Vesper looked into her grandmother's eyes and nodded.

"And much, much more than that, Bibi. More things I'm even afraid of discovering." Bibi took Vesper's hand in her's and caressed it. She was in mother mode now.

"How do you think he'll react to Charlie?" Vesper shrugged and whispered an almost unintelligeable, "Je ne c'est pas."

"Want to know what I think, judging by what I have noticed from his demeanor?" Bibi offered and Vesper shrugged, tears in her eyes. "I think he'll be furious." Vesper looked up at her with an expression that said 'you think I don't know that?', but Béatrice ignored her. "He will be furious, Vesper, but right this moment, I think he's simply laying there in his hospital bed, afraid you wont return again." Vesper was shocked by this, "I know you never considered it, but that's because you weren't the one who opened her doors to a broken hearted man last week. You didn't see all that pain, loss, longing in his eyes. The Distress and the loneliness. All the time I knew what he'd been looking for, you, when he himself didn't even suspect it. When he saw the portraits of you around the house, portraits of you as a child... even me. I noticed how he looked at me, like I reminded him of someone, of you..."

Vesper had tears rolling down her cheeks, her hand clutching her grandmother's fiercely.

"So, here's what I think. I think he will be both angry and disappointed, at you and of his old boss, the one who died and hid you away. He will be upset, sad, he'll probably cry... maybe he's crying this exact moment, he'll be thinking of all the time you both lost, all these years he lost of his son's growth and remorse. That remorse, Vesper, will make him not want to make up for it, because really it's impossible, but to never be away from the two of you again."

"How do I tell him?" Vesper whispered, "The problem is that..." Bibi frowned for a few moments, trying to think of a way.

"Remember that box, the one you hid away, from before Charlie was born... with the letters and pictures?" Vesper nodded.

"Do you think I could show it to him?"

"I think you should show yourself to him."

"And then?" Béatrice shrugged.

"Leave. Let him be... I'm not a psychic you do realize that, right? I'm just an old woman who's seen and lived a lot." Bibi set the food on the round wooden dining table and appreciated her art work, "So, shall we eat?"

…...

James lay alone in his room, he was impatient and... as much as it killed him, as humiliating as it felt, he missed her. Heck, he was missing her right this moment and the bloody wretch's blankets with her scent didn't help at all. What, was her washing soap Chanel No 5, too?

"Damn her..." That instant, the door opened and he turned only to find her, a red box under her arm and an overnight bag hanging around her shoulder.

"Damn who?" Vesper asked, "thinking of me?" James snickered, not caring to lie. "I told you I'd be back, didn't I?" Vesper took off her coat, revealing a midnight blue silk and lace sleeping gown (A/N: If you've seen Dark Shadows, it's that dress).

"What's in the box?" He asked, suspiciously. Vesper rolled her eyes and climbed up the bed with him, pulling some of his pillow from him and getting under the covers.

"This box James, well, let's just say it's my entire life, from my parents, to mine and my sister's births all the way to a few months after Venice... And It's very important for me to share it with you. If you agree of course, 'cause we could just have sex for all I care and then I could leave..." James' eyes went wide with her boldness.

"Fine, start..." He said, pulling her even closer, "as long as we _make love_ afterwards..." Little did James know though, that there would be no coupling, that evening...


	8. Chapter 7

**Thank you everyone for the continued reviews and support. I hope you continue to read and enjoy this story. Any constructive criticism or problems with the French expressions in the chapter below, please feel free to private message me or review your problem.**

**A special thanks to JustOlga, for supporting and reviewing since the very first chapter and a shout out to my best friend and number one advisor, Isabela!**

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own James Bond Or Vesper Lynd.**

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James lay there in his bed, staring towards the ceiling, but not exactly at it. His head hurt and his heart hurt and it had nothing to do to the scar Monneypenny had left on his chest, due to the shot he took on a mission.

Vesper had long gone, holding her tears, he knew, but the box she brought in was still with him, but he couldn't let go of that one picture of her, very pregnant, dressed beautifully in a long turcquoise dress, her hair down, in it's natural messy curls, with the Thames as a background.

What was written on the back was now etched to his memory, as he'd read it so many times... "I wish you were here with us, James...". He cried like a baby as she left his room, suddenly not knowing what to do with himself and for the hundredth time in his life, cursed his blind loyalty that always left him hurting in the end.

James didn't pay much attention when Dr. Merimée walked in, followed by one of the MI6 agents, responsible for keeping guard of him. Bond just kept on staring at the boring white ceiling, his emotions a turmoil as he didn't know if he killed Vesper or married her. But then again, Vesper was Vesper, and she would never have him, without him having a second, third and millionth thought.

There also was the risk of him marrying her, killing her and running away with their son...

"Monsieur Bond, monsieur Bond..." The doctor said, trying to catch the agent's attention. After what was probably thr fifth time Dr. Merimée called his name, James shifted his attentions towards him, before the old man thought he'd gone deaf. "Monsieur Bond, I have here your permission to leave the hospital, on the condition that you stay someplace where someone can look after you—perhaps with your wife..." With an angry glare from James, the doctor silenced. "Perhaps a hotel with a nurse, I know a lady who could probably be available, she is of my complete trust."

"No." James decided.

Agent Z ignored Bond's decision and called the doctor to a corner.

Bond watched them unimpressed, hating to have thrown all of his frustrations upon them, who had only been helpful, but _that_ woman just got on his nerves! Moments later, they were back and agent Z, informed James to gather all of his belongings, because he was to stay with a friend.

James became worried about this. What friend was this, the only person he knew for sure in Paris and he could trust not to kill him, was the mother of his son, who's name he was too angry to pronounce, even in his thoughts.

"What friend, agent?" James asked and Z shrugged.

"No worries 007, she is of our complete trust and will be here within hours to take you to her home. Don't worry, I will also make sure Mrs. Bond is informed, that is, if you allow." James nodded.

"Thank you, Z." The agent nodded and left the room, leaving James Bond alone again, with his wandering and miserable thoughts.

…...

Vesper was in her office, at work, she was one of the top accountants for the British Embassy in France, and also one of the best paid. However, as the hours passed slowly as she wrapped up and sent the month's report, to her boss and a copy to the minister back in London, her thoughts kept going back to James, but ultimately Charlie, and what his reaction to having a father would be.

She was suddenly interrupted when Caitlin, from the Psychological department walked inside, a couple folders in hand. Caitlin, with her short and messy red curls and big emerald eyes was one of the few friends Vesper, or better yet, Estelle, was able to make in her life and being what she was, a shrink, despite not knowing her true identity or name or past, most times, Caitlin could read right through her.

"Estelle, phone call for you on line three, it's from your son's school." She said and as Vesper was about to answer, the woman mouthed a "talk to you later" and pointed towards the staff kitchen.

Vesper nodded and waved her off with a humourous smile, before saying Marchand, on the phone, formally.

…...

Vesper thanked Charlie's teacher, Mademoiselle Vaucher, on the phone, who Charlie had insisted on asking to warn his mother that grandmère wouldn't be available that afternoon to fetch him, and that he would need her to come instead.

Of course this was a pretext, Vesper knew her son very well, he had probably grown tired of being away from his mother for so long and as much as he loved his irreverant great-grandmother, no one could calm him and talk and play and make him feel safe like Vesper herself.

So she called her Grandmère to let her know she would be fetching Charlie from school two hours earlier and that they would spent the rest of the evening together. James would live.

Grandmère hung up the phone and smiled to the confused, annoyed and stubborne man laying on her granddaughter Vesper's old blue bedroom, that Charlie slept in, the times he visited her house.

"Well Mr. Bond, I suppose it's _vous et moi ce soir_." The old woman said with a wave of her hand, a joyous grin on her face and her big blue eyes, identical to Vesper's sparkling. "You know, my husband is away..." She said, quirking her eyebrows, devilishly, just for self-amusement, as Bond stared at her wide eyed.

The actress she was, Béatrice Florence changed expressions in a heartbeat and had enough of kidding around. James suddenly realized that if he thought Vesper was bad enough, her seemingly bipolar grandmother was worse.

"It's okay James, I don't bite... too much." She mused as she opened the antique wardrobe in a corner, took out a shirt and tossed it to him. "Here, where this, it's Vesper's. Belonged to her father, she used to wear it to sleep. Funny thing, is it not, to feel comforted by a dead man's ensemble. _Vesper est un étrange, oui_?" James just nodded in agreement.

"Yes, a very strange woman... I never could read her. To me she's a complete enigma, no matter how much she opens up to me."

"It's the same to all of us. Myself as her grandmother, who raised her and loves her like a daughter. Even to me she is hard to understand. To her sister, Aurora, have you ever met Aurora, James?" Bond shook his head. "You see, I know they are fraternal and all, but I've never seen a pair of twins, so, so, _différent_." Madame Béatrice took a seat on the wooden rocking chair next to the bed and seemed to forget he was there, as if she were magically transported to a stage and were enacting a monologue. But even then, who words, to Bond, seemed nothing but truthful. "Aurora is beautiful, but in ways very dissimilar to Vesper. They both have dark hair, light skin, probably the same nose and eye color, but from the very shape of their bodies, to their personalities and the intensity of their characters they are different."

"How so?"

"It's hard to describe, _vous savez, mais bien_... Aurora is romantic and _conservateur_, just not in politics, thank God, but conservative in nature. She's what you would call a goody two shoes. She dreams of having a family, a handsome husband and two white kids and probably a nice dog, and live in a perfect cottage in the south, never having to work again, although she loves working, the violin is her true passion. Aurora craves a family, James, like the one she never properly had. You're probably aware of what happened to their parents, devastating really. My own heart broke when they called to say my daughter had died on _un putaine accident d'avion._ Well, anyway, that's Aurora. Guarded, but not as much as Vesper. She was also always much more communicative and able to make friends... unlike Vesper who all her life was like a shy nun, until when she was sixteen she rebelled, caught the first train she could and left for a beach up north. She was away for a month and until this day, I have no idea what happened there. I do know however, that she came back different, with a new sort of strength and willing to live and let herself enjoy living. She was always so intense!"

"Wow, at sixteen?"

"Yes, yes. God only knows what she did to feed herself and to make sure she had a roof over her head. Well, Vesper is intense with her relationships, she gives her heart and soul to them as if they were the devil you know, and sadly, unlucky as she is, most of the time she has deposited all this love she has inside her, love that is so much it practically floods her own being, upon loves that did bad to her, that she could not maintain. Like the _salaud_ that betrayed her into spying, which cost her her life you know?" James nodded. "But there are some similarities between them two, some things you just need to squint your eyes to see, like they both crave families. You haven't met your son yet, I presume, but do know that he is the most important thing in her life and she has done nothing but love him unconditionally, protect him and turn him into a gentleman. I must say, though, his charms do not come from her however, that's entirely your responsibility, that every living female falls at his feet even at the age of five." James chuckled. "You can't imagine how much it frustrates her that he is like you in those ways. But he's a good boy Mr. Bond and so are you... _je sais._"

"Thank you madame." James said, honestly and Bibi, caressed his face, like a mother would.

"I know you don't deam yourself a good man, but you are one, despite the ugly things you've seen and done... They say I should have been a shrink, James, because I read people too well, but it was always on top of a stage that I felt the happiest." Béatrice said with a smile. "These eyes have seen a lot, James, and recognizes an honourable man when they see one. You knocked on my door, days ago, wishing to be directioned to that address, and I, I'm French, I'm sorry it's in my nature, misguided you into being patient and hearing the stories I have got to tell you. You will stay here with me three days, James, I will tell you all these things and you will also ponder upon your life and what you want to do next and I wont judge you... But I do have a family event to attend this Saturday, it goes on until Monday and you shall come with me, _je suis, après tout, vois gardien_."

"Will she be there?" Bibi nodded. "I suggest you make up your mind until then."

"Thank you Madame, really... I just do not know what-" Bibi silenced him and turned off the bedroom light.

"Rest, James, rest. We'll talk and have your British tea later." She said with a smile, "En fait, vous, je préfère mon café." Béatrice winked at him, and shut the door, leaving James alone with his thoughts, exhausted and in seconds he fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 8

**Thank you everyone for the continued support and reviews! Don't worry, the best part is yet to come!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own James Bond or Vesper Lynd or the entire 007 franchise.**

* * *

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, when James sat down for tea with Madame Béatrice Florence in the large dining room, with windows facing the very fancy Champs Elysée avenue, Tchaikovsky playing softly in the background, from Bibi's record player, the soft sound of the needle, flooding James, who until then had kept himself quiet, with memories of his boyhood, his mother, a bright-eyed woman, very beautiful, an actress from Switzerland, cooking them a dinner of roast lamb with mashed potatoes, gravy and vegetables. James had hated vegetables as a child.

He didn't like thinking much about his family. His father, Charles Bond, had been born and raised in Edinburgh, but moved to London for college, and there he stayed for many years, coming to work with the MI6 himself.

It had been on a mission, that Charles had met, such as James had met Vesper and many other women, Monique Delacroix, who helped him with his cover and put him into contact with the men he was to capture. It was love at first sight, and James was born nine months later, in his father's Scottish property of Skyfall.

His parents however, died when James was eight years old, leaving him to be raised by his paternal granddaunt, Violet Bond, who was both an actress and piano extraordinaire, who like every Bond, had all the charms. It had also been aunt Violet the responsible for James not believing in monogamy, not at first at least, all this being fruit of aunt Violet's eight unsuccessful and unhappy marriages, three of which, James himself lived.

"James, James? James!" Bibi repeated, calling the man's attentions.

"Yes, sorry, ma'am?" He answered, rather clumsily.

"You're not one to lose yourself in thoughts are you James? Well, I would like to introduce you to my othe granddaughter, Aurora Lynd, vous savez, Vesper's sister."

James glanced at the woman on his right and promptly stood from his chair, automatically extending his right hand for her to shake.

As he examined Aurora's face, James concluded that she was in fact a beautiful woman, who despite being past her thirties, had flawless sking and childlike features. The only resemblance he could see at first, between Aurora and Vesper was the eye color, but not the shape or the intensity, but rather, pure wide-eyed wonder.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Charlie's dad." She joked with an uncertain smile, and shook his hand. "I've come to spend the night with my grandmère, thinking she'd be alone, but I see she's in good company. Welcome to our home." She said and although coming from most people, her declaration would sound mechanical, James really did feel welcome in this home and by these women, funny, since most of the time, he didn't feel at home not even in his own flat back in London.

"Well, I'm done with my coffee, I'm going up now, is that all right, I need to call my husband. Excuse me!" James nodded and Madame Béatrice placed a soft kiss on her granddaughter's cheek before leaving the room and climbing the stairs.

Aurora, sat across from James on the table and quietly poured herself some earl grey tea with a splash of milk. She stirred ceremoniously and then brought the drink to her lips, sipping, placing the teacup down and smiling satisfied.

"You know, I may have spent much less time in England than my sister, but I have always been more British. Everyone says I'm identical to my father in personality, I only hope that doesn't include suicidal tendencies. Unlike everyone else in this family, I took comfort in religion after he died. Nun school." James nodded understanding. "God this is so awkward!" and with that the two bursted in laughter, beginning to sort of banter in a way siblings would. But then again, Bond would never know, as he'd always been an only child.

"You're a violin player?" Aurora nodded and smiled. "What kind of music do you play?"

"Mostly classical and French Folk music, some Russian as well and a couple of film scores. But enough with the small talk, Bond. I know you want to hear about Vesper and Charlie... we can get to know each other better some other time, perhaps this weekend. Has grandmère invited you to the vineyard for Elisette's birthday party slash family reunion?"

"Yes, and I don't know if I should be excited or nervous."

"We all wonder the same, but once you get there and get a few glasses of homemade whine down your throat, you'd think you're Baccus." Aurora took another sip of her tea and then spoke more seriously. "There isn't much I can tell you about them... We had all been told that Vesper had been dead, we grieved and at the time, my grandmère, I thought she'd die of heart break. Vesper had always been the closest to her, while I was and still am our step-grandfather's pet. Well, about nine to ten months after, she came knocking at our door with a baby in her arms and it was the most shocked and happy we had ever been. She's a wonderful mother and he's a wonderful, beautiful and brilliant boy."

"How did you feel, when she returned?" He asked.

"You mean to ask if I felt betrayed, such as you seem to think you feel?" James furrowed his brow, confused and shook his head. "I think you've been lying to yourself. You want to be angry at her, to blame her for all that has happened, the betrayal, Charlie's birth that you didn't know of, the simple fact that she is alive and that your son exists. Truth is, you're in denial of the feelings you harbour for my sister. You know I'm right and you also know that now that you've been reunited, that you never be away from her again. I really don't know what you're waiting for, I'd go see her right away!" With that, Aurora pulled out her phone and spoke in rapid French on it and a couple of minutes later, she hung up. "In five minutes your taxi arrives." She patted James on the shoulder and squeazed his arm reassuringly.

James arrived in front of the neo-classic three two story house, with the ruby red colored door and windows and ornated iron balconies, the wall color being of a medium blue-gray and the accents in a lighter blue.

He could see through the large windows, the lights on, vintage white-laced curtains giving the home a sort of romantic feel from the outside. James had never been so nervous or anxious in his life, not with any of his conquests, not on any of the countless missions he had gone on... Probably because he never considered Vesper a conquest, not even when he thought, right after her death, that she had betrayed him, no. To him, Vesper was the love of his life, and with her, the last aspects of humanity and loved drowned.

However, now James felt reborn, like his heart had resurfaced from the deep and dark surfaces of desillusion, and had now found a purpose once again. He felt ready to do this. To let himself fall in love, to let himself be unselfish and to let himself be part of something much greater than MI6, much greater than anything should be to a man: a family.

James knocked at the door and waited a couple of minutes, the sun was beginning to go down. He knocked again and rang the bell, only to realize after a couple of minutes, that there was no one home, however, he did hear the sound of barking from inside. He never took Vesper as an animal person...

Not wanting to wait, seeing that he didn't know at what time she'd be home and beginning to feel that pain in his ribs once more, he decided to walk towards the main avenue, to hail a taxi back to madame Béatrice's home.

* * *

**Thank you once again! Please review and tell me what you think, you all can't imagine how important to me it is, to stimulate my writing and also for my self-esteem.**

**Chapter Nine shall come soon, stay tuned!**

**-Clara**


	10. Chapter 9

Vesper and Charlie walked up the street of their home, joking, laughing and talking about the train trip they went on to visit the Versailles gardens, of which Vesper told him a not so graphic version of the story of Queen Marie Antoinette, the very one who said: "let them eat cake."

Charlie had found her phrase amusing, explaining to his mum that Marie Antoinette sounded very much like grandmère, a bright, dramatic and funny woman, but who deep down had a sad thing about her and sometimes felt lonely. Vesper thought about what he said for a while, questioning herself on how on earth could her little son, only a five year old, could pick up so much out of people's behaviours and also, understand them.

Charlie was an extremely advanced boy for his age. Vesper knew it, her whole family knew it and was proud of it and the nun teachers at his school had also told her more than once. What Vesper feared was that he could be growing up just _too_ fast and that she was allowing him to let his precious childhood pass him by. Could this just be an impression of her's, did all mother's feel this way because they don't wish for their children to grow so quickly?

Elisette had told her once that, with Ada-Louise and Sebastien, her two children, she felt the same way. First, she never wanted them to leave the protectiveness of her womb and then, when they were born, she never wanted to see them grow, especially not into teenagers.

Vesper tried as much as she could to preserve Charlie. Since it was just the two of them most days, with no other children for him to play with after school, Vesper tried as much as she could to play with him herself, to encourage some fairy tale beliefs like Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy. The two watched children's films together, most of which were Disney classics and the Disney-Pixar films, of which Wall-E was their favorite. Also, Vesper took him to the park nearly everyday, to waste some of his energy and socialize with other children, as well as encouraging him to read and his creative side.

As a child, her mother, grandmother being artists and her father and grandfather, Guillaume being writers, Vesper from a very young age, younger than what was usual learned how to read and write and she often enjoyed writing her own books, creating her stories that were written in her then sloppy writing and making colorful drawings and paintings for them. Her grandmother had also taught her how to play the piano and Vesper's mother would take her and her sister to see children's plays oftenly. Vesper however, had been too young to remember any of these outtings, but with the pictures, carefully kept by her Grandmère, she knew it to be true.

Out of all of these things though, that she had loved doing as a child, but her sister not so much, prefering always the Ballet—which Vesper hated—had enjoyed creating her own puppets and marionettes with her mother. This, Vesper could vaguely remember. They would make up some sort of story together and with left over scraps of the fabrics Eva Florence used to make her daughter dresses, beads and plenty of newspaper, glue, wood and strings, they would make their personalized characters out of_ papier maché_. The moment that Vesper held in her heart and considered to be her favorite memory of her mother, was of them performing a puppet play for the entire family doing a Christmas dinner.

With Charlie, Vesper tried to do as much as she could out of all of this. A few months ago, as a school project of his, about the seasons, they made their own play, scenery and puppets which they performed for Charlie's entire classroom.

Sister Celine, Charlie's teacher had loved their project and had even had Vesper go in for a day, to teach all the students to make their own puppets, along with their respective parents on Family Day. Charlie had been so proud of himself and of his mum and Vesper felt greatful for James having given her such a special son, who allowed her to relive and share some of her childhood.

"Maman, why did you have to be away for so long?" Charlie asked her as they passed by the record store Vesper usually went to, to buy and trade some of her vinils and sometimes repare the needle of her LP player.

"I was tending to a good friend of mine, Charlie. He was badly hurt and he knew no-one else in town." Charlie nodded.

"Do I know him?" Vesper shook her head. "Where is he from? Is he from your work?"

"No darling, James is an old friend from London, a man I met before you were born and who I like very much."

"But he's not going to need you again so soon is he?" Charlie asked worriedly and Vesper took his little hand, crouching down so that her eyes met his.

"I'm not sure, Charlie... but listen, I love you more than anything and no one will ever change that, _capiche_?" Charlie nodded and wrapped his arms around his mother's neck, only relaxing once she wrapped her arms around him just as tightly, trying not to stumble over. "Oh, my sweet, sweet boy... I love you so much." Charlie released himself from his mother and looked into her big blue eyes.

"Good, because I need you." Charles stated, as serious as a heart-attack.

Vesper's motherly heart nearly melted at this and she cradled her son's face, kissing his lips.

As they continued on their path towards home, Charlie making fun of his mother's fear of spiders, causing Vesper to tickle him, earning loud laughs and screeches from the little boy, none noticed the man at the other side of the street, who watched as the two interacted, mother and son in their element, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Looks like even secret agents with "gaping holes for hearts" have feelings.

* * *

Later that night, as he lay on Vesper's childhood bed at Madame Béatrice's home, James thought about how much he had wanted to be there, sharing that small moment, with his beautiful son and his mother.

James looked at the time on his new cell phone, half-past midnight.

* * *

Vesper Lynd lay on her bed, having just bathed after taking time to finish her work and tidy the house, she was exhausted, and worried about James, she hadn't seen or heard from him in two days. Could it be that her grandmère scared him away? Vesper laughed to herself at the thought.

Charlie slept next to her on the bed and Eulalie, her very old dog laying at their feet. Charlie's excuse for wanting to sleep on her bed had been quite simple, to make up for the many days she did not tuck him in, for being at the hospital with "that James person" he didn't even know.

Vesper, tired and unwilling to order him to his bed, because he was a "big boy" now, sort of contradicting her confliting thoughts earlier, allowed him to, on the condition that he didn't make a fuss at waking up the next morning for school.

Vesper suddenly felt the urge to drink some tea, something quite rare since nowadays, her days were packed with coffee, which she liked so much more. Vesper hated this, the feeling of being so tired your bones hurt, but when you actually got the time to rest, you simply couldn't... those days had grown in number and the thought of waking up one day, with a thick white hair on her head in the morning terrified her. The very thought that the number thirty-five, all 364 days of it meant she was heading closer to forty, made her feel depressed.

It wasn't so much about the aging and wrinkles as it was all the time she wasted in her life, until now, that could have been packed with exciting stories to tell her grandchildren, or the looming thought of teenage years thrown away because of her shiness and her obsession with being a musician, which clearly failed... and to top all things off—the thoughts she never got to finish, because things such as doorbells rung, such as now, on ungodly hours!

"The doorbell!" She exclaimed, not too loudly, jumping off the bed, with Eulalie following her, all the way downstairs, her cream colored silk robe, flying after her like Superman's cape. She opened the door fast and forcefully, irritated as she did it, hoping it wasn't monsieur David from next door, asking for a cup of sugar, as he did often in the most odd hours. "Monsieur David it better not be you!" She cursed under her breath in rapid French, as her eyes suddenly took in the image of James Bond, across from her.

"I'm not monsieur David..." He chuckled and Vesper, as no-nonsense as she usually was, pulled him into a fierce kiss, to which James, after his mind registered her assault of his lips, responded, locking without looking, the door behind them. As their lips parted, both of them with lips swolled and lovestruck expressions, Vesper laughed. She actually laughed, as if she'd seen the funniest of scenes in a Benigni movie and James laughed at the way she laughed, her cheeks turning a bright red and her eyes bigger and brighter than ever, if possible.

"What?" He asked her, amused.

"I'm so glad you're not Monsieur David..." She said and he pulled her by the waist, towards her couch and kissed her many times again.


	11. Chapter 10

**Hello Everyone! I'm very, very, very sorry for the long wait. I'm afraid from now on, updates on this story well become even scarcer. I've been extremely busy with my doctorates degree and having to finish my research and monography, I have only four months left, although that does sound like long.**

**I thank you all for all the warm reviews and hope you care to review this time around also.**

**A special thanks to JustOlga and my newest readers. I hope you will continue to stay on board!**

**Lots of Love,**

**Clara**

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The next morning, James awoke on the floor of Vesper's living room, fully clothed. Vesper slept on her couch, her brown curls sprawled over her Indian pillow cases, her robe had been discarted onto the leather armchair by the fireplace.

As much as he tried, James Bond couldn't remember a night that he slept with a woman without making love to her—well, except Camille from his mission in Bolivia a while back. He didn't regret it though, Vesper was a beautiful thing to watch.

"What're you staring at, Mr. Bond?" She asked, her eyes still closed but a knowing smile adorning her features.

"Nothing, just how you drool in your sleep... dreaming of me most likely, eh?" He retorted, removing a strand of hair from her face and caressing her cheek.

"You must have slept uncomfortably down there..." James shrugged and Vesper opened her eyes, big and clear blue.

"Well, you have a quite fluffy rug, and I must admit, we barely slept." Vesper rolled her eyes and smiled. James suddenly glanced at her ceiling and suddenly his eyes went wide. "I'm no expert but isn't today a school day?" Vesper smacked herself and sprung from her couch, wrapping on her robe and running about. "What is wrong with you?!" He cried, amused.

"You bloody idiot! You came knocking on my door on a week day? I've work and your son has school!" James cringed. God, he could swear the woman was a bipolar. "_Merde alors! oh, vous sanglant, beau, irrévérencieux, stupide, inconséquente, douleur dans le cul ..._"

"Okay, okay, quit swearing at me in French woman! What do you need?" Vesper stopped right in front of him and pierced her lips.

"God damn it, I love you, you...bloody moron!_" _James rolled his eyes and pulled her in for a good morning kiss, I mind blowing one, to be exact.

"May I ask you, darling, do you wake up every single morning spitting fire?" Vesper stared at him in the eyes furiously for a moment, so intense that James winced. Vesper rolled her eyes at his reaction her cheeks a dark shade of pink.

James wrapped his arms around Vesper, who's back was against his chest. As each one was caught up in their own reveries, the couple didn't notice the alarm clock going off in Vesper's bedroom and their son sleepily hopping off the bed, ready for breakfast.

"How are we going to do this?" James asked her, moments later. Vesper just sighed and crossed her arms.

"I've no idea..." She sighed and waited for the moment her son would come down the stairs, her heart on her sleeve. What would be of her relationship with James of Charlie disliked him? As much as she loved James, Vesper's top priority in life was her son and she wasn't twenty-nine years old anymore. They weren't the same messed up people who fell in love years ago during the Casino Royale ordeal. Now, both James and Vesper had even more traumas, heartache and remorse as they did before.

They were like very tattered and ripped up books, lost in an attack of sorts, pages all yellow who someone, by some miraculous whim remembered and took out of the boxes, ready for a new life on a bookshelf, with no guarantees of being read.

"_Maman?_" She heard Charlie call from upstairs and she and James shared a conflicted look.

"What now?" She asked him, terrified. But James didn't even here it, he'd suddenly turned all pale and... insecure? Vesper had never seen the all too full of himself double-O like this.

Charlie sat at the kitchen table, his cereal in front of him along with a glass of natural orange juice. The whole time, he barely ate, prefering to stare at James unrelentlessly.

"Charlie, quit staring, it's unpolite." Charlie glanced at his mother for a moment and shrugged, continuing to eat. The boy had never in his life awoken in the morning to find a man with his mother, having breakfast with her, talking and smiling with her. He didn't like it one bit.

* * *

Vesper had driven a quiet Charlie to school. What coward had she been, not being able to look in her son's eyes and say that the man who prepared his school lunch today was his father. But then again, James hadn't said a word of it either, not to her and definitely not to Charlie.

Most of the time, the man seemed dazzled by his son and Vesper had pittied him the moment he had tried to lower the tension in the kitchen by telling a joke. Charlie had stared at James angrily and advised him not to try a comedy career. "He was as funny as a snail and snails weren't funny, not even in Spongebob".

Charlie hated Spongebob. Spongebob was dumb and Charlie thought he would become retarded if he watched such a cartoon. Of course those were all things Vesper's step-grandfather, André, had planted in the boy's mind. Deep down though, Vesper was thankful she didn't have to listen to those irritating cartoon voices.

Charlie much preferred the Walt Disney and Pixar classics as well as Madagascar, Shrek, Ice Age and Rio, he wasn't a TV kind of person, although he enjoyed watching films. What Charlie mostly did was build things with his blocks, draw, try to engineer his own inventions and read. And it was reading in the living room that finally lead James to Charlie or vice-versa.

James sat on the couch reading a book of Vesper's that had caught his attention from the shelf, Eva Luna by a Chilean author named Isabel Allende. By the amount of books Vesper had of this woman on her shelf, Isabel Allende, must be a favorite.

"Maman always laughs and cries when she reads that. It's her favorite." Charlie explained as he sat with his own book, James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl, the boys own favorite author, next to Dr. Seuss and J. M. Barrie.

"Really, I'm quite enjoying it myself. This Eva Luna is a very irreverent woman, strong, independent... sarcastic, but hopeful. She's a lot like your mother."

"James, what are your intentions?" James stared at his lad quizzically and as if he'd been kicked in the stomach.

"What do you mean?" Charlie moved next to James and sighed. The boy looked up into James' eyes for the first time and after a moment's realization smiled.

"Are you going to stay... Mama wants you to stay, she didn't say it, but she's happy. I like it when she's happy, so I think it's okay if you want to live with us." James had never been so surprised in his life.

Since Charlie and him met, all the boy did was stare, glare or give him the silent treatment, obviously jealous. He hadn't expected Charlie to take the first step to talk with him, much less to tell him he wanted James to live with them.

"I do want to live with you and your mum, Charlie. I'm happy as well with the two of you and I'm even more happy you decided to talk to me." Charlie nodded and stared at his feet.

"Why didn't you say you were my father?"

"How do you know?"

"Your eyes look like mine." James nodded with tears in his eyes. It was true.

Charlie dropped his book instantly and went to hug his father, for the first time ever. He couldn't wait until Monday when he could go to Sister Celine and tell her his prayers had been heard and that God had sent him a father.

James hugged his son back, caressing his hair and kissing his cheek.

"I love you, James—dad." Charlie whispered, his little arms around his father's. "Is it true you have a double-life, like Batman?"

"Sort of, but that's classified, kid."

"Do you have a cave?" James chuckled and was 'saved by the bell' as Vesper called for dinner. In two hours they would be leaving, as a family, to the vineyard.


	12. Chapter 11

_**Hello my fine readers! Thankfully I was able to get a break from work and the current craziness that is my life and was able to write this quick chapter for you.**_

_**I would like to thank you all for the wonderful reviews and support and let you all know, that despite things being very unclear concerning possible new updates in this story, it is something I truly enjoy doing and wish I'd never have to stop.**_

_**Since this passed weekend here in Rio, I was able to concentrate on my doctorates, I've got things a bit more organized and ahead, that way, for now at least, I will be able to post chapters. Thankfully!**_

_**Anyway, on with the story.**_

_**Lots of Love,**_

_**Clara**_

The road trip had been extremely quiet until now. Charlie was in the backseat watching Despicable Me on his portable DVD player, headphones on and James watched through the window, the beautiful countryside of France.

"You're awfully quiet you know..." Vesper murmured, turning on the bluetooth to her phone so that they could listen to some music.

"Yes, I know, I'm thinking of you..." He said nonchalantly, turning to look at her, who's eyes were on the road.

"Why don't you talk to me instead?" James nodded but for at least five minutes continued to be quiet, Vesper herself didn't say a word.

"I don't know what your favorite food is," James implied, smoothing the creases of his slacks. "I just realized how we don't know the most basic things about each other. It's always been so fast and intense-" Vesper nodded, knowing it was true.

"I love homecooked food, mainly meat casseroles with lots of potatoes, carrots and green beans. The French don't necessarily eat scargot too often, in fact, I'm not comfortable eating frogs at all." James made face and chuckled. "I also am a sucker for mashed potatoes with thick meat gravy and grilled fish wrapped in banana leaves. It preserves the taste."

"I guess you really are one of mine then." Vesper smiled.

"You mean British? Not so fast, Mr. Bond." Vesper turned to the right on the road and from where they stopped they could see a belvedere, from where they could see a lot of the provençal properties, a large lake surrounded by trees and houses and vineyards scattered about. At the far end, at a cliff, was an ancient church or castle made of stone.

"That's beautiful, but I would never live in the middle of nowhere." He complimented, as they hopped off and the couple took in the beautiful nighttime scenery. Charlie had remained in the car, having fallen asleep a while ago.

"Same here, but I do enjoy coming for extended weekends or even the holidays, gives me that taste of childhood and freedom... plus, there's free wine—excellent wine." James pulled her in for an embrace and the two held each other for a couple of minutes, enjoying the time alone, appreciating the company they each offered.

"My favorite dish is lamb ribs with peas and mashed potatoes. My aunt Charmian, who raised me after the death of my parents used to make it especially for me, whenever I came to visit from boarding school. She also always made lemon merengue, my favorite dessert."

"Mm, I make a good lemon merengue, but I guess it'll be just you and Charlie eating it up because I hate it." James sent her an astonished look, as if she were from some distant planet or grown antlers instead of ears. "I'm a total cookie monster though, cinnamon, butter and sugar cookies are my favorite, especially with coffee or milk."

"I can bake cookies..."James commented with a wry smile, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes were especially charming tonight.

"If you really want to win my heart, you will bake me cookies, Bond." She said, her eyes locked with his, the intensity of their odd moment almost nervewrecking. James pulled Vesper tight against his body, an arm encircling her hips and the other at the base of her neck, caressing that sensitive spot there, that always made goosebumps travel up her arms.

Her hair was so soft and dark, a dark and very rich shade of brown, with some strands of hair naturally lighter than others, a mesh of blonde or honey in some spots, that contrasted with the fairness and softness of her skin. To him she was the most beautiful woman there was and this was the perfect moment to prove to her that.

"When will you stop thinking and kiss me, old man, this is nothing like yourself." James chuckled and kissed her firmly on the lips, imposing himself to her, that snarky, infuriating, bossy woman, who he could not help but love more than anything in the world. James finally understood why his father hadn't thought twice about dying along with his wife. He would do the same for Vesper, always.

Vesper let him take the lead, after all, their past few nights of love making had been a conquerless dispute on his side, for domination. Vesper liked it on top, and James felt, quote: 'slightly emasculated'. She had thought it hilarious and somewhat endearing, but understood the need for balance in a relationship. In fact, she was beginning to become accustomed to the idea that James was her 'one and done' and that no other man who she'd ever been with was the same. With them, she had felt the need to prove herself everyday, impose herself above them and always have a foot on the ground, unfaithful to the very thought of comitment.

Vesper enjoyed the kiss thoroughly, his hands roamed through almost every possible inch of her, and by now, blinded by the luxury that was sex, were against a tree, just about to undo their clothes and, well, make love right there, with nature and a sleeping child in the car as their witnesses.

"Charlie!" James pulled back imediately and fixed his clothes, a look resembling that of a deer caught in headlights adorning his face. Vesper chuckled, but also buttoned her jeans and blouse, pulling him by the hand, back to the car, ten meters away.

"That was a fine snog anyway though." James whispered in her era as she started the engine, his voice seductive and his blue eyes sparkling, wickedly at her.

"We better get going, we've still two hours to go." James nodded and leaned his head at the back of his seat.

"James?"

"Mhm?"

"I love daisies."


End file.
